


Centennial Requiem

by AccidentallyTheWholeFanfic



Category: Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon: Animal Parade
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentallyTheWholeFanfic/pseuds/AccidentallyTheWholeFanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once more, it was time to honor his vow to her - to sing the songs she once sang. Entry for the Snowman Solstice Prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Centennial Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> I was wracking my brain forever, trying to settle on something to do for my Snowman Solstice prompt (going on till March 27 at Fanfiction.net's Harvest Moon section - join today!). None of the ideas were panning out... and then this came to me. Me and Animal Parade, I swear...

Once again - a lifetime for some, a breath for him - the time for the ritual had surfaced.

It had emerged centuries ago, as a private gathering in remembrance of the vibrant, beautiful, strong young woman who had, once upon a time, brought the land from the brink of ruin - the brink of death.

Molly Franklin had long-since passed - half a millennium, as Ignis clearly and painfully remembered, her face hovering in a strange time lapse between glowing youth and graceful age. Occasionally, the ugly ravages also crept into mind's eye, wracking him with an ache that struck far beyond his bones. Some days, he remembered the full, rosy cheeks and sparkling smile, or the laugh lines and shining silver of her once-auburn braid. Other days, he saw the shadowed, dull eyes and the sallow skin.

Always, he remembered the warmth of her body against his, of her tiny, frail hands clasped between his as he stayed by her side until the last breath. Their children, their grandchildren, all were gathered by Molly's bedside, hearing Ignis's final vows:

"My love... I shall always and forever sing the songs that you sang. They shall echo from the peak of Mount Garmon to the valleys of Flute Fields, from now until eternity... I shall love that which you so fervently loved..."

She drew in a shuddering breath, her voice as brittle as the December frost that had stolen her vitality: "Ignis, my love... I... please, do - do not..."

Her eyes slid shut with a soft rattle from her thin throat, her final words - Declaration? Request? Protest? - forever lost to the many ears present.

His head had bowed in heavy silence, unable to bear seeing the sadness in the many pairs of eyes around them. No tears fell - they were crying more than enough for him.

He knew she would understand - in only mere decades together, she had learned the very essence of Ignis's being, his inner workings, his soul. Even Sephia herself, in all of their millennia as equals, could not lay claim to such an honor.

Still, in the time that followed, the anniversary of her death had marked the time when he would emerge from his state of solemn, quiet grief and make good on his promise to her - a true god, after all, did not make vows lightly in any capacity.

Still, as the years wore on - decade melting into indistinguishable decade, a mere blink before Ignis's ruby eyes - the memorial services began to wane. Each one still held great importance, stirring up a maelstrom of confusing, conflicting emotions within him - emotions he had never quite managed to fully untangle and separate neatly in his thousands of years of godhood.

Perhaps he could only bear the fresh swell of pain from the memories less and less as time wore on, a small group of immortals reminiscing on a woman for whom mortal memories held little space - thus, did the celebrations wither away into centennial occasions.

Still, he mused, it would have been more than enough for the ever-grateful, generous woman.

So it was on the five-hundredth year that, once again, Ignis surveyed the silvery-white land that had thrived long and well from the benefit of Molly's touch - halfway to the thirty-first century, the gleaming, sparkling metropolitan trappings of the land across the vast sea had not encroached upon Castanet. More houses had sprung up, new and confusing businesses, the faces ever-changing - some of his own mortal descendants still carried on happy lives of toil and simplicity in the rich soil, or on the sparkling seas.

Around him fluttered six spritely beings, a colorful array spanning a rainbow, their heads bowed and hands clasped in a prayer for their savior's soul - long at rest, long at peace. Her children - Ignis's children, his heirs - were buried alongside her, atop the rolling hills surrounding the Celesta Plaza. May the blessing be eternal, may they always rest well, may her family and friends prosper.

A beautiful woman - a vision from an ancient sculpture, in tasteful gold and flowing, pale green - placed a gentle, cool hand upon his shoulder and smiled at him. It was returned hesitantly, though not without warmth - a warmth that had long been kindled, stoked, and nurtured by Molly. A warmth that roared to life deep within him whenever he remembered all that she had afforded his life.

The sun broke the distant horizon, painting the freezing sea in hues of pink, gold, and blue.

It was time, once again, for the centennial requiem.

Sucking in a deep breath, Ignis once more squared his shoulders, face stony with concentration. Sephia leaned her head on his shoulder as his deep, strong voice rang over the land - mournful for his loss, but burning with passion for carrying on this nigh-forgotten woman's legacy, honoring the musical arts in which she had so fondly reveled during her youth:

_"It's Britney, bitch."_

As Ben and Alan began to obediently beatbox, with Colin and Finn keeping tempo by clapping their tiny little sprite hands together, a harmonious blanket of voices swelled and cooed behind Ignis's - _"Ev'ry time they turn the lights ouuuut... just wanna go the extra miiiile for yooooou..."_ \- complementing his tremulous bass.

Colin kept time as he and Finn dropped to the ground behind god and goddess alike, grinding and writhing sensually, squatting and popping their tiny sprite posteriors about while the frozen mountaintop plunged into strobe-lit shadows. Truly, it was the ultimate celebration of Molly's exuberant, colorful spirit.

Together, they all sang the slumbering, snowy land towards a new dawn - another century of prosperity under Molly's everlasting influence:

_"Gimme gimme (more!), gimme (more!), gimme gimme (mooooore!)..."_

And on would it ring, beyond infinite generations, and woven inseparably through eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, you guys are going to fucking _kill_ me for this.
> 
> Feel free to leave a review, if you'd like (I like reviews! Gimme gimme more!) - and perhaps an epitaph.


End file.
